Kingly Ambitions
by jacksparrow589
Summary: Charting Roy's journey from apprentice to leader of a nation, as viewed through his changing relationship with Riza. A king exists for his people, after all, but those with whom he truly shares his vision are rare. Definitely Royai. Full manga spoilers.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

"…and for God's sake—"

"Don't talk about politics. I know, Chris, I know," Roy drawled.

Chris stopped and put her hands on her hips. "I'm very serious on that last point, Roy. You can be an absolute monster in all other ways, and I'm fairly sure you could make up for it somehow, but your ideologies are at opposite ends of the spectrum, and we all know how differing ideologies tends to bring out the worst in people." She sighed. "I know you've noticed—he's stopped writing. He's settled on the issue. You'll either be his student, or I'll know why not."

"I'll be his student, Chris, I promise," Roy assured his aunt and foster mother. "I've studied, I've talked with you, and I remember. I've done all I can for now."

With another heavy exhalation, Chris nodded. "I know you have, Roy. But you're my responsibility; my only real family. It's the first time you'll really be out on your own, and in rather unfamiliar territory."

"But not completely." Roy smiled. "Just remember, Chris: you raised me." He kissed her cheek. "And you did a damn good job."

Chris's own grin was somewhat rue-tinged. "Sometimes, I wonder if my having raised you really is a good thing. But you're smart, capable… and rather handsome, I must say. Any new impression of you will be a good one, I'm sure." She handed him a small package. "The girls decided to give you a picture to remember them by, and you will have to write once and a while to keep this old woman appeased."

"I will," promised Roy, "But you'll have to dig out the dictionary."

"Smart boy." Chris raised an eyebrow, impressed. "My Xingese isn't so rusty that I won't be able to get the hang of it, I bet. Not unless you've been taking secret lessons."

Roy shrugged. "Meilin and Li-Jun still practice with me sometimes." Roy chose not to mention that a not-insignificant portion of this was curses and epithets, though he was sure Chris could probably guess—the girls she took in often came from hard situations. However, they had also taught him several ways to code what he wanted to say. Chris's establishment was first and foremost a place to gather information, after all.

The conductor called for boarding. Roy grabbed his coat from Chris and seized his trunk, then dropped it and turned to give Chris one final hug, feeling her slip another small bag into his hand as she finally kissed his cheek. "I'll make you proud, Chris."

Chris tried to look impassive, but Roy knew she was beaming when she told him, "You already have, Roy."

Roy tried not to think on it too much, swallowing the small lump building in his throat. He climbed aboard and found a seat next to a window near where Chris still stood. "I'll be home in a few months for Winter Solstice!" The train lurched forward. "Bye, Chris!"

He watched her wave for a moment, then turned and settled in, remembering the bags in his hand. He unwrapped the picture frame and smiled. All of the girls had grouped together and were smiling, a few laughing, some making faces, others making gestures, and all of them Roy's sisters.

The other parcel was several small containers of Roy's favorite dishes. There was also a small card that read, "Because train food is awful." It bore the signatures of the few girls who were exceptional at cooking, though Roy suspected everyone had pitched in at some point. There was also a note from Chris, reminding him, among other things, that the rest of his things should arrive within the week.

Roy unlatched the rolling trunk he'd brought with him and took a notebook out. He flipped to a random page, comforted by the somewhat neat rows of Xingese characters interspersed with other thoughts in his spiky Amestrian hand. Already, he was beginning to feel homesick, and was annoyed with himself for it.

Surely this was the right choice, wasn't it? Mr. Hawkeye was an alchemic powerhouse and mastermind, if one who scorned the government more publicly than he probably should… No—politics had to be kept out of this at all costs, or it would never work.

It was going to be different, Roy knew, and the thought rather excited him. He hadn't seen Mr. Hawkeye or his daughter in several years, and if they'd never really warmed to each other, Roy doubted Mr. Hawkeye would have agreed to even give Roy a trial period as a student if he disliked Roy much at all.

"_I hope you know what you're doing, Roy,_" Chris had murmured the other night. Roy was unsure whether he'd been meant to hear it or not, but either way, it was too late to go back now.

"I hope I do, too," Roy sighed, shifting in the seat and pulling out a book. It was going to be a long journey.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

The sharp metallic squealing of brakes pierced the silence as the train shuddered to a stop, nearly throwing a half-asleep Roy from his seat but for his sudden reflexive grip on the armrest.

Roy hadn't thought he would be able to sleep on the train ride, but he'd miraculously fallen asleep just outside Central, and stayed that way until they had come to the first stop. The pattern had continued in a similar fashion, but now, it had reached its end with Roy reaching his destination.

He stood and pulled on his jacket, frowning. It was raining, and a bit heavily, if the steady drumming on the roofs of the cars was any indication. _Of course I wouldn't think to bring an umbrella…_

With a quiet groan, Roy grabbed his trunk and disembarked, shielding his eyes with his free hand. Chris had said that Riza would be there…

Ah. There she was. Roy would remember that stare even if he never saw Riza or her father again, and it would always be as unsettling as it had been the first time.

Well, best not to keep her waiting, though Riza at least had come prepared with an umbrella. Meanwhile, Roy was standing there, looking very much the sopping wet idiot who might have just seen a ghost. He forced his feet forward, if only to the promise of a dry area under the awning where Riza waited.

"Hello, Riza," he greeted as he approached.

"Hello, Roy," she responded in a deeper version of the same soft voice she'd had as a child. "You look well."

"Thanks. I'm a bit soggy, though," he pointed out in an attempt to make a joke. Riza didn't smile back, however, so he tried a compliment. "You look quite nice, yourself. It's been so long since I've seen you that I almost didn't recognize you!" He knew he was probably saying too much, but the quiet unnerved him far more. "Five years since we last saw each other, right? You're fifteen now?"

Riza nodded. "That would make you seventeen, wouldn't it? Your birthday's not until early spring, if I recall."

Roy affirmed this with a nod. "And I'll be glad when it comes. Six more months of this…" He pulled a face.

Now Riza's features lightened a little. "Everything in its time, Roy. We need the rain sometimes, and it was a pleasant summer."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't here for that part of it," Roy grumbled good-naturedly. "Shall we head out, then?"

"All right." Riza held the umbrella up a little more than she normally would as they exited the station in order to accommodate the half-a-head of height Roy had on her.

They were quiet for a moment as each took stock of the other. Roy noticed that Riza was careful to react as little as possible, and he found himself thinking this strategy a good one to adopt at the moment.

It wasn't that Riza was unattractive by any means. Her blond hair, cropped very short, was actually quite refreshing to see after the long hair that was much the fashion in Central. At fifteen, she certainly had the body of a young woman, which Roy had figured on. While Riza was not a delicate piece of glass, she was a bit on the slight side, though, as he had noted, she didn't exactly lack curves. (He was being oh-so-careful not to dwell terribly much on that particular observation.) Her face was more or less the same, accounting for the same sort of development the rest of her body had gone through, and her eyes hadn't changed at all.

But there was something that did concern Roy: Riza looked older than most fifteen-year-olds he knew. For a moment, he couldn't place what it was, but when he figured it out, he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner: it was the same adversity-hardened look that many of Chris's girls had, that even Roy himself had, if to a slightly lesser degree.

He wanted to ask, but knew that to do so was likely to open a can of large, slimy, wriggling, and otherwise generally disgusting worms. Instead, he opted for the more general, "So, what have you been up to? Five years is a lot of ground to cover."

"It's just the same," murmured Riza.

Roy tried to keep the surprise in his expression to a minimum. Was she really going to tell him so quickly and easily? Part of him hoped so, but another, wiser part told him that if she didn't, it wasn't any of his business, and he probably didn't want to know, anyway. "Come again?"

This time, Riza elaborated with something about school and helping out around the house, then asked Roy about his life. He told a few stories about his lessons in Xingese and how Chris had rather loudly and harshly lectured Meilin, Li-Jun, and himself in a mix of Amestrian and Xingese after a particularly vulgar lesson.

They were in sight of the house when Roy noticed some of Riza's bangs were plastered to her forehead. He'd been constantly pushing his own hair from his eyes during the walk, as it was rather uncomfortable. Without a second thought, he reached out, starting backwards to the point of completely leaving the shelter of the umbrella when Riza flinched away.

Roy was shocked. He'd been moving slowly, clearly with no intention of hurting her. Perhaps she'd thought he was trying for a romantic moment? No—she didn't seem to mistrust him _that_ much.

In any case, he had to apologize. "I just… there was some hair. I thought it might be getting in your eyes. I'm sorry. I should've just said something."

Riza blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry. Your hand was just at the corner of my eye and I wasn't really paying attention… Here; you're getting wet again." She held the umbrella up so that Roy could join her under it, and they started toward the house once again.

* * *

Neither had said a word the rest of the way back to the house. Roy had been sneaking glances at Riza when he was fairly sure she wasn't looking, and he thought he'd caught her once or twice. Even when he hadn't been looking directly at her, he thought he could feel her staring at him.

This was going to be one very long apprenticeship if he was going to have to deal with just one pair of disquieting eyes, but Riza's eyes were the spitting image of her father's. Roy was unsure if he would survive so much as a day of such scrutiny; he almost always preferred to work unnoticed if he could. Unfortunately for him, he knew that the point of an apprenticeship was close work between master and disciple, so he would have to get used to it. That didn't mean he had to _like_ it, but it would probably be easier even if he could just tune it out when he knew it was simple observation.

Then again, was there anything simple about this family? It was clear that there were many secrets and layers to Riza, and while Roy was curious, he knew he would have to go about unraveling things carefully, so as not to cause any problems, not that he wanted to.

_What have I gotten into? Is this really the right thing?_

Roy shook his head, stripping off his wet coat and shirt and swapping them for a dry shirt. He set the wet things on the floor by the radiator, which he turned on before pulling dry pants and socks from his trunk.

_Barely here ten minutes and I'm questioning my own decisions. I don't care if every student goes through this—I'm made of stronger stuff! I need to take things as they come until I know what I'm doing, and that's that._

Now, how to go about it? The first stage was obvious: quiet, unobtrusive observation. Every family was different—he'd have to get used to how things worked here, anyway.

The difficult (or perhaps impossible, Roy was starting to think) task would be to obtain answers to the questions he had and those he knew he would come up with. He would have to keep track of what he knew, what he didn't, and what he guessed, and keep all that as quiet as possible. Secrets could destroy relationships whether they were being hidden or exposed, and Roy's relationships with Riza and her father barely existed yet. This was going to require quite a lot of serious consideration and planning, Roy concluded as he set his damp pants and socks by the other soaked clothing on the floor.

"_Ugh_…" Already, his head was hurting. His feet were sore from walking, and his wrists and hands ached from pulling the trunk. It didn't matter that he'd just spent almost a whole train ride sleeping; it was time for a nap.

Settling down on the bed, glad to be in dry clothes but still perplexed by the afternoon's events and realizing just how similar they were to every other visit to the Hawkeyes', Roy murmured, "Some things have changed, Chris, but no matter how hard they try to hide it, other things never do."

**A/N: I swear, this will be the ONLY author's note for this entire story! I just wanted to give my usual "please REVIEW to let me know what I'm doing well/wrong" spiel and say that if you have any questions, I've got a **_**TON**_** of notes about this story, but I don't want those to impede your reading, so let me know in your review and I promise I'll get back to you ASAP! (Well, I reply to reviews either way, actually.)**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: **

_Roy and Chris stood at the door, Chris having just knocked._

"_I know this probably won't be fun for you, Roy, but I owe it to visit every so often." Chris sighed. "He has a daughter—a little younger than you. Perhaps you two will find something to do."_

_Roy shrugged. He wasn't as averse to girls as most boys his age seemed to be. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by women back in Central, or maybe he was mature for his age. Either way, it probably wasn't going to be as horrible for him as Chris seemed to be warning him._

_The door opened slightly. A somewhat haggard-looking man peered out at them, his features brightening somewhat after a moment. "Chris, welcome." He opened the door. "Come in."_

_Chris stepped inside without hesitation, Roy lingering just a step behind. Those eyes… He shook his head and started inside._

"…_my daughter, Riza. She'll be six in a little over four months." Mr. Hawkeye pushed the young girl forward. To Roy's surprise, though Riza didn't look talkative, she did not resist, or wheel around and hide behind her father's legs. She wasn't "adorable", not like the girls who worked in Chris's establishment would think, anyway; she stared almost curiously at Roy, her eyes the same intense golden-yet-reddish-brown as her father's. She had chin-length blond hair, bangs cascading across her face. She wore a rich purple jumper dress over a light lavender blouse, light blue ankle socks, and serviceable black Mary Janes. Mr. Hawkeye clearly didn't have much money to spare; both father and daughter's clothing was made to last—Mr. Hawkeye's jacket was patched in several places, but Riza's looked newer, or at least better kept._

_Chris placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "This is my brother's boy—my foster son—Roy. He turned eight two days ago."_

"_Happy birthday," murmured Riza. The other three looked at her in surprise, leaving Riza to fix her gaze on the floor. Finally, Chris let out a small chuckle. "Well, are we allowed to sit?"_

_Mr. Hawkeye motioned to the couch. "Please."_

_All four sat, and as Chris and Mr. Hawkeye started to chat, Roy studied Riza. She didn't seem terribly uncomfortable or out-of-place, but she wasn't happy to be the center of attention—that had been made painfully clear earlier. She was polite; they at least had that in common. Possibly even friendly, though Roy doubted that somewhat, judging by her gaze—there was something slightly suspicious or even mistrustful in her expression._

_She held herself very well for a child—no slouch, which even Roy couldn't pride himself on—and with a great deal of dignity. Roy remembered that Chris had said something about Riza's mother dying when the girl was two or three. Bearing the memory of his own parents' deaths a little over a year ago, Roy could sympathize with her._

_Overall, Roy noted that Riza was significantly less gaunt than her father. While he looked haunted and distracted, Riza was merely quiet and reserved; where he was worn and thin, Riza didn't look at all undernourished, if she was slightly small; and if the somewhat flighty Mr. Hawkeye was slightly guarded, the seemingly far-more-grounded Riza was an absolute blank slate when she wanted to be._

_It was that last bit that worried Roy. Chris had always stressed looking out for others; the girls who worked for her had been far worse off before Chris took them in. He'd seen the look of those burdened by horrible, monstrous events, and while he didn't quite have the words for it, it was clear that she was far more affected by the events of her short life than she let on._

_Roy blinked and shifted. He noticed Riza was analyzing him probably as closely as he had just scrutinized her. For a moment, he felt guilty for thinking things about her that would probably make other people turn their noses up at her. Then, he remembered that he'd never tell, and pieced together that she was probably gathering the same sort of information about him. Really, schoolteachers didn't give children enough credit—they could be plenty observant when they wanted to be._

"_We'll be in the kitchen," Chris informed them, bringing each child's attention to her. She threw a sharp look at Roy, who steeled himself against flinching and stared right back. With a grin playing at the corners of her lips, Chris rose and left._

_Now, Roy shifted just a little. "So… Riza… It's a pretty name," he offered, having struggled to find a compliment that wouldn't sound insincere. "I like your eyes," he added after a moment. "Mine are boring. Dark blue—almost black. I guess you can see that, though."_

"_They're fine," Riza told him. "My mother had blue eyes." She paused, biting her lip and swallowing a lump. "And thank you—nobody's ever said my name's pretty."_

"_It's different," Roy explained. "You can find 'Roy' anywhere, but my parents liked it, I guess. They're dead, too," he informed her._

_Riza folded her hands and looked away. "I'm sorry."_

_Roy shook his head. "They wouldn't want me to mourn."_

"_Yeah…" Riza swung her feet slightly. She was becoming a little unsettled._

"_I'm sorry," Roy blurted. "I shouldn't've said that. It's not wrong to grieve—Chris says that—but I just meant that I don't want to sit around and do nothing but cry… Not that I think you do that!" He shook his head._

_Riza tilted her head a little to one side. "I didn't think you did," she assured him. "You don't seem like the sort of person who would try to hurt people."_

"_Thanks," Roy said quietly. He forced himself to look at her. "Would it be okay if we were friends?"_

_Riza shrugged impassively. "I don't know you well enough."_

"_Would you say yes if you did?" he asked._

"_I said, I don't know you well enough," repeated Riza._

"_Oh. Sorry." Roy frowned. At least she was honest, but Riza was cautious as well, as though she were afraid of being hurt. And yet, she'd just said that Roy wasn't the sort to try to hurt others. Wasn't that enough to start with?_

_Chris and Mr. Hawkeye re-entered the sitting room, effectively silencing the children for the remainder of the visit, but it didn't stop Roy from thinking._

_He'd make a friend of Riza yet. He just had to figure out_ _**how.**_

* * *

Roy blinked, coming out of the dream.

Well, not a dream—a memory; it had happened exactly as he remembered it just then. His naps were usually dreamless as far as he could recall, but new and different situations had a definite effect on him.

_We didn't know each other then, and we certainly don't now. It's time that that changed._

He yawned and stretched, looking at his trunk. Best not to unpack yet, not when his trial period had barely started. He exchanged his now-rumpled shirt for a crisp one, gazing out the window as he buttoned it.

A soft knock sounded from the doorway. "Come in," he intoned.

Riza pushed the door open but did not enter. "My father's down with a headache, but I have dinner ready for us, if you'd like some. Or I can make you a tray—"

"No—I'll eat with you," Roy interrupted, knowing it was a little rude, but he really didn't want Riza thinking badly of him. "I'd like to catch up a little more, if that's all right."

Riza nodded and turned to go downstairs. Roy followed her, not speaking until they settled at the table.

"You know, I never did ask you… what's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she replied quickly enough. "Light purple, really. What's yours?"

"Green," he told her after a moment of thought. "Your favorite type of book?"

She smiled shyly. "Romance, I suppose, when it comes down to it."

"Nothing wrong with that," Roy affirmed. "Love for its own sake isn't a bad thing."

"And your favorite genre?" Riza pressed, eager to get off the subject.

This time, Roy answered without any hesitation. "History. Of science, government, art—of _everything._"

"Favorite month," Riza quizzed.

Roy let out a low whistle. "That's difficult. Let me think…"

* * *

It went on and on like that, long after they'd finished eating and cleaning up.

Finally, they noticed they had company when Mr. Hawkeye cleared his throat from the entrance to the kitchen.

Whereas they had been animated, even smiling and occasionally laughing up to the split-second before, both teens now looked as though they'd been caught in a very compromising position. (Upon a moment's reflection, Roy realized that, in a way, that was, in fact, the case.)

"Enjoying yourselves?" Mr. Hawkeye asked, a solid frown tugging down the corners of his mouth and an eyebrow quirking upward.

Both murmured something noncommittal.

"You didn't come here to make friends, Roy; you came to learn alchemy."

Roy resisted the urge to immediately snap, "You don't control what I do when I'm not actually learning form you!", and instead replied as calmly as he could, "I thought that I might get to know Riza better as long as I'm here. I don't want to seem like a stranger who surfaces only to make demands—I owe that much to you both."

He'd noticed how both had stiffened (and Mr. Hawkeye had outright blanched) at "I don't want to seem like a stranger who surfaces only to make demands", only to relax just a little when he finished his thought.

Mr. Hawkeye sighed and shook his head. "Very well. I suppose I can't stop you." He met Roy's gaze. "We start tomorrow at nine-thirty in my study."

"I'll be there, Mr. Hawkeye," Roy promised.

"Yes, I expect you will." Mr. Hawkeye turned and left.

Roy turned to Riza, whose arms were now crossed. She looked troubled. He knew it was a gamble to ask, but it was getting hard to help it. "Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do?"

She, too, shook her head. "No. You'd better rest. He won't go easy on you."

"I know." Roy pulled a book out of his pocket. "I didn't think he would. I've been studying."

Riza's expression brightened a little bit. "I think," she said quietly, "that if anyone has a chance at pleasing my father, it's you." With that, she left the kitchen for the stairs.

_What about you?_ Roy wanted to ask, but he knew exactly how that would sound, and it was clear that he wasn't yet in a position to ask. He suppressed a sigh and started up the stairs after Riza.

When he reached the top, he found Riza looking at him almost expectantly, and he was overwhelmed with the need to know just what was going on. He almost asked, but quelled the impulse and murmured a short, "Good night, Riza."

While relief was clear in Riza's expression, Roy noted that she looked almost disappointed, as well. "Good night, Roy."

But it wasn't going to be a good night, and both of them knew it. In fact, it was probably going to be one of the longest nights of their lives.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Roy could never really be called bookish, not that he aspired to the title. Unfortunately, the rain was keeping him inside (again—three weeks since his arrival and it was _still_ raining!), and he was tired of studying. Mr. Hawkeye had shut himself in his study that morning and was not responding to Roy's knocks.

It was under these circumstances that Roy found himself in the sitting room, which was now more of a library than anything else. He wandered the room, occasionally grabbing a book to check the title for something familiar or exciting.

After a few minutes, his eyes settled on an old book at the top of a pile of novels and anthologies. _This must be one of Riza's stacks._ She wasn't exactly obsessed with books, either, but she probably read a little more often than Roy did. _Well, may as well find something to talk about with her._

It wasn't at all that Roy didn't like Riza. He respected her. (Chris had seen to it that Roy respected _all_ women, but it wasn't hard to respect Riza.) Maybe he was even starting to feel a little affection for her. (He tried not to think about just what type of affection it might be—he'd just be leaving either way.) She was just a quiet girl, and both of them focused on their respective studies quite a bit. They talked a bit over meals, and Roy had run errands with her once or twice. They certainly got along in general, but spending time together wasn't the highest priority for either, so it didn't often happen.

Leafing through the book he'd picked up, Roy stopped as a title caught his eye. _"The Highwayman"? Sounds interesting._

Roy skimmed the first few lines. It didn't seem like the sort of thing Riza would like, but then Roy remembered their previous conversations about books, and Riza was forever surprising him. He settled into a chair and continued to read.

* * *

Not one minute after Roy was finished, Riza appeared in the doorway. "Oh. I'm sorry—I didn't know you were studying here."

"I'm not," Roy said quickly, standing. "I just… I was bored, to be honest, and I picked up this book, and I just finished reading one of the poems. 'The Highwayman'. Good poem."

Riza cautiously stepped into the room. "I have a fondness for that poem, even though it's a bit sad to read. I know that love requires sacrifice, but it seems like half the romances worth reading end in tragedy, and the other half are too good to be true. But I guess you wouldn't want to read about your own ups and downs, would you?" A blush had risen in her cheeks as she had made her point, and she looked down.

Roy shrugged. "I think that that kind of devotion is something to aspire to, no matter how the story ends. And I don't think that either one died unnecessarily because that devotion existed. Bess didn't want to die, but she didn't want him to die, either; she wanted him to live and be free, even if she couldn't. He just didn't want to live if that meant he couldn't be with her. Even if it's not exactly practical, they refused to give up what they held most dear." Now he was blushing, too. They needed something safer to discuss. "Uh… Any other history-related books you can direct me to? I like a good swordfight." He grinned at Riza, who gave him a shy smile in return.

"If fighting's what you want…" Riza strode over to a shelf and stood on tip toe to grab a book. "Very instructional, with lots of historical accounts." She stopped for a moment. "You don't mind if I stay and read, do you?"

"No!" It came out a bit more vehemently than he had intended, but Roy meant it. "You can stay; I really don't mind."

A bit puzzled, Riza thanked him and grabbed a book from the shelf and settled onto the couch.

* * *

Try though he might, Roy could not keep his eyes to his book; they kept finding Riza instead. Finally, she noticed. "Really, I can leave if you'd prefer."

"No—it's fine. It's just our discussion… It's not every day that people are so honest with each other. I guess I just want to thank you for being so open."

"Oh. You're welcome. I just… there's no reason why I wouldn't tell you what I think." Riza sighed. "I suppose I should thank you, then, too. You gave me something to think about."

"Er… Good? I think?" was all Roy could come up with in response.

Riza covered a smile with her hand. "Yes, 'good' is accurate. One thing my father's always held to is that when you cease to think, you die." She frowned now. "It's a harsh way to put it, but true, after a fashion. If you've got all the answers, or if you think you do, then what's left for you?"

"To assist others in their quest for knowledge?" suggested Roy.

"I suppose that works," conceded Riza, "but say one of your answers is wrong, and that's the answer off of which you've somehow based all your other knowledge. If you have faulty information, you lead that other person down a dangerous path, and if he follows like a sheep, without stopping to challenge the 'facts' even if he would only prove to himself that they are true, then he stops thinking, and he dies, too. He is close-minded and ignorant, and will refuse to let others around him explore because he is comfortable just being told how things are. With so many mysteries and so many different ways of looking at things, how can we really know that we're right?" She blinked, realizing that she had just lectured Roy. Her cheeks went a brilliant shade of scarlet. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to preach! Father just always warned me, ever since I was little, and I guess I've come to accept it as truth…"

This was going to get painful if Roy didn't say something. "It's okay, really! I like learning! I don't mind hearing what others have to say and thinking about it later. And if we go in too many more circles, I think I'm going to have to lie down." Riza still looked miserable. "Tell me this: you didn't not question what your father said, right? You explored it and just reached the same conclusion as he did, right?" At her nod, Roy continued, "Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?"

"Other than sounding pretentious," she muttered darkly.

Roy chuckled. "Hey, all of us need to be put in our place every now and then." More seriously, he added, "Your father's an alchemist. Alchemy lends itself to philosophy. Keep philosophy bottled up, and you'll go a little crazy. Talk about it with someone, get another viewpoint, and you find out that you're not the only crazy one out there. Maybe you'll make a friend, or maybe you'll make an enemy, but either way, you'll forge a connection. People need people more than almost anything else."

"Yeah," Riza agreed, looking rather suddenly uneasy.

_Quick… Think of something else to talk about… Something not so heavy…_ "So, does it ever stop raining?" was all Roy came up with. _Lame, but better than nothing at all._

"Eventually," answered Riza. "Then it starts snowing."

"Seriously?" Roy almost-whined.

Riza nodded. "It's better than a dry freeze, although we haven't had one of those in a while. Maybe you'll get lucky this year."

"Maybe it should just be sunny," grumbled Roy. "Is that so much to ask?"

"You know, for a scientist of sorts, you're really subjective about certain things," Riza pointed out.

"Yeah, well, humans need to be relatively dry and warm to survive. I—" he stopped, realizing just what story he'd been getting ready to tell. Riza had lost her mother; she could relate. But Roy didn't want to dig up painful memories for either of them.

Riza's look prompted him for a moment before understanding lit up her eyes. She stood. "Well, I should go start dinner."

Roy closed the book he'd been holding open to the same page for however long they'd been talking. "Would you like some help? I can follow directions, if nothing else."

"Following directions? What a prize you are," Riza teased, laughing at Roy's surprised grin. "Are you handier with a stove or a knife?"

"Stove." Roy held up his left hand, indicating a small line at the base of his thumb. "This is what happens when I'm told to slice mushrooms." He pretended to inspect his hands and forearms. "No burns as of yet."

Riza shook her head and _tsk_-ed a few times. "So careless."

Roy puffed up indignantly. "Like _you've_ never hurt yourself in the kitchen!"

"Not so it left a permanent reminder," Riza shot back, looking like she was enjoying this. "I'm not so vain that I need stories to impress people."

"Cutting yourself slicing up mushrooms is not impressive!" Roy argued.

"No, it's not," agreed Riza, "but I bet you tell other girls a much more harrowing tale."

"_Oooohhh_, I see: you're jealous," Roy taunted. "Don't be. If I'm man enough to admit what happened, I obviously like you enough to tell you the truth."

Realizing exactly what that might mean, both of them stopped for a moment.

"I didn't mean… I don't think…" Well, he did think she was hiding things, but everyone was entitled to keep secrets. It was just that some complicated things more than others.

Thankfully, Riza understood. "I get it. It's fine." Trying to lighten the mood, she continued, "I'm not threatened enough by your manliness or your clumsiness—" she smiled as Roy made an indignant noise "—to kick you out of the kitchen. You said you'd follow directions, so come on. We've got work to do."

Both knew that it was all far from over. Moments like this would keep happening until everything was out in the open, but neither was quite ready for that to happen. At the moment, baring it all was just as tough an option as waiting. It was almost agonizing. Maybe alchemy would take his mind off it for a while.

But somehow, Roy didn't think so.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Riza had been correct: the rain had given way to some snow, but mostly a dry freeze. Roy had actually awoken one morning with a nosebleed that he hadn't been aware of until he walked into the kitchen, half-terrifying Riza when she'd turned to say good morning.

Now it was mid-spring, and the rain was back in full force.

Roy stared out a kitchen window after the start of a sudden downpour. "I can't win," he moaned, shaking his head. "Soggy and cold one way; nosebleeds and dry, cracked skin the other. At least it's getting a little warmer."

He turned from the window to look around for Riza, spotting a note on the table. He picked it up. _Gone to town to run errands. Back before eleven-thirty._ Roy glanced at the clock. Eleven-fifteen. Riza would be on her way back, and in _this_. It hadn't looked like rain earlier this morning, either.

Quickly, Roy checked the coat rack. Riza's coat was gone, but all the umbrellas were still there. He grabbed his own coat and an umbrella and was out the door in under five seconds.

* * *

Thankfully, it wasn't very windy. The old umbrella held as Roy sped along the path, scanning the trees and the awnings of any close buildings for Riza, starting to worry after the first half-mile. The rain wasn't letting up.

"Roy!"

He whirled around. Riza stood under a tree a hundred feet off the road, the bag of groceries by her feet covered with her coat. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and while under the tree was mostly dry, she'd obviously thought she could beat the rain back to the house and lost the gamble. Her hair and clothing were soaked.

Roy ducked under the tree and removed his jacket, and Riza took it without protest. As he passed it off, Roy noticed that her hands were already cold and clammy.

"Maybe we should wait here a few minutes—see if it lets up?" Riza suggested.

"Sure." He collapsed the umbrella and set it up against the bag.

There was silence but for the steady pattering of rain for a few moments, then Riza turned to Roy. "Thank you."

Roy shrugged. "I wouldn't want to be out here like this. It's common courtesy."

"Giving your jacket to me was a common courtesy. Coming out in the weather to find me in the first place isn't," Riza pointed out.

"Speaking of my jacket, is it helping?" Roy wanted to know.

Riza nodded. "Probably helped that you were wearing it just before you passed it off to me."

Roy smiled. "Yeah, I generally go around _wearing_ my jacket, as opposed to covering groceries with it. Hey!" he exclaimed as Riza swung a sleeve at him. "I get that you don't want to have a paper bag bottom out on you, really!"

Grinning, Riza chuckled. _"Sure_ you do. Have you ever had that happen to you?"

Not to be outdone, Roy refused to answer, but challenged, "Have _you_?" When Riza didn't answer, he let out a _"Hah!_ Thought not."

"Watch it," Riza threatened darkly, "or I'll take off with both our coats and the umbrella."

"I'd make it back eventually," scoffed Roy. "It has to stop raining _sometime._"

Riza nodded. "It will, about mid-June or so. Can you wait out here a month and a half?"

Roy rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to win this. "Hey, you've got some hair…" He reached out to brush it from her eyes, not remembering the last time he'd tried this until he was well on his way.

"Yes, I have hair, Roy…" Riza froze mid-retort, realizing just what he meant.

This time, she didn't flinch or knock his hand away, but stood stock-still as Roy swept the longer strands out of her line of vision, watching him with a mixture of shock and wariness.

A moment later, he'd finished, but his hand hesitated at her temple for a moment before skimming down the side of her face to come to rest so it cradled the corner of her jaw. This was all kinds of bad: against-the-rules bad, blurring-the-lines bad, where-the-hell-did-I-get-the-crazy-idea-that-this-was-okay bad… bad-bad-bad-bad-_BAD._ But he wasn't going to stop unless she told him to. So, before he could give her the chance to refuse (or chicken out, himself), Roy leaned in and kissed her softly, lingering until Riza responded, shuffling a half-step closer.

Confused and wanting more and drawing ever closer to each other to draw each successive kiss out as long as possible, it was several minutes before either of them noticed that the rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started.

* * *

Roy knew it was Riza knocking on the door to his room—with only three people in the house, figuring out who was doing what generally wasn't that difficult.

"Come in."

Riza pushed the door open. "A letter for you. From Chris."

Roy sat up immediately, having been half-dozing on his bed. "Thank you." He crossed the room and took the letter. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Riza turned and went back downstairs.

Ten days. Ten long, agonizing days since they'd been stranded under that tree. Roy had always known that living with Chris would give him a warped sense of reality when it came to romance, but he hadn't expected it to be nearly this painful. It wasn't as though Roy didn't know why the girls did what they did, or why they had to make it look so effortless, and he'd seen plenty of real couples of all ages, but he was coming to realize that what you see never does quite prepare you for what actually happens to you.

And something told him Chris wouldn't be so sympathetic if she knew just what was going on.

With a sigh of resignation, Roy slit the envelope and pulled out the paper. _At least she writes in Xingese._ He skimmed the letter first, eyes widening. _Just like her—she remembers more than she's letting on._

_Dear Roy,_

_Happy (late) birthday! I trust it was rather uneventful, but that you enjoyed yourself._

_Your letters (and the occasional one from Mr. Hawkeye) indicate that your studies are going well, that you're a hard worker, and that your basic mastery is more than satisfactory. Congratulations—as your "mother", I've told you I reserve the right to worry a little, even though I've always been confident of your skills and intelligence._

_Now, a warning: Other than your studies, the subject you mention most is Riza. This is __**dangerous**__, Roy. I know you'd never intentionally complicate things, but you need to keep this in check, before something happens that you can't take back. You'll do what's right and proper, and, if it comes to it (God forbid), what society dictates. (If it comes to __**that**__, though, expect me on your doorstep, demanding to know just where I went wrong with you.)_

_Perhaps it's just your poor aunt's overactive imagination, but can you really blame me? No. And I can't blame you. We were all young once, and only once, so it's easy to get caught up in the moment. Just remember, every action has a consequence, or, as you alchemists would put it, to gain something, you must lose something of equal value._

_I know you'll find the balance, and I will, of course, do what I can to remind and advise you. You need only ask._

_Give my regards to Mr. Hawkeye and to Riza._

_Best—_

_Chris_

Oh no. Not good. So very not good that Roy didn't have the words for it in either language he knew, or even both combined. That Chris could get so much from his semi-weekly letters meant that this was more complicated than he'd originally worried.

Roy could keep his head in a tactical crisis, meet challenges head-on, and wasn't afraid to face the unknown, but Chris's letter had brought him out of the bubble he'd been in for the past week and a half. She'd reminded him, however indirectly, that there was much more at stake than reputation and student status. Roy had a goal that he was working toward, and it was one that required the utmost care in achieving. One misstep, and it would all come tumbling down, with no possible hope of building it back up.

That didn't mean that this—whatever it was between himself and Riza—couldn't continue or wouldn't work out, but he'd just have to take more care about going about things than he had before. He could do that, and he was sure Riza could, as well, but he couldn't totally shake the foreboding eeriness that had descended upon him. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that things were going to change before long, that by this time next year, things in the Hawkeye house were going to be coming to a head, and nothing would be the same after that. Part of him was tempted to just enjoy what he could while he could, but thankfully, he had always been fairly good at reining that particular impulse in.

Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, Roy began to write.

_Dear Chris,_

_Thank you for your concern. You're right—this probably isn't very good, and I know that it's my life and that I have to be the one to deal with it, but you offered your counsel, and so I'm asking. Also, if any of the girls bring up insights, please have them write me with your next post. It's not at __**all **__that I don't trust you, but (a thousand pardons for this) they're good at what they do, and while that's partially you, it's mostly them._

_Things haven't progressed nearly so far as you seem to fear, and I don't intend to let that happen without both of us knowing full-well what we're getting into. I'm trying to understand what's going on, and I'll make my decisions once I know more. And, of course, Riza will make her own decisions, __**which I will respect without exception**__, no matter my own feelings on the subject__**.**_

_You raised me right, Chris. Don't doubt that for a moment. Any mistakes are my own, and I'll take full responsibility, but before things have so much as the possibility of a chance to get that far, I'm asking for your advice._

_Love,_

_Roy_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Roy stood on the front porch, hand poised to knock. How had he ever thought that this was going to be a good idea?

Well, good idea or not, if he didn't do this, he'd never know just which it was. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, heart hammering.

The footsteps he could hear approaching the door from the other side were those he recognized as Riza's. Of course it would be her—Mr. Hawkeye rarely left the house or even came to the door, Riza had told Roy, because of the opinions he'd generated about alchemy. Strangers would approach with threats or with entreaties to become his student, swayed by his immense knowledge and the promise of alchemic fame.

The door opened. "Roy… Hello. Come in."

Riza was clearly disconcerted by the military uniform. Wearing it had been a bad idea, but Roy owed it to the Hawkeyes to be honest about his intentions.

"Hello, Riza," Roy said finally as he stepped into the house.

Crossing her arms—a habit formed in discomfort—Riza observed, "I see you've joined the military." At Roy's nod, she sighed. "You'd better sit down. I'm going to let my father know you're here."

Roy did as he was bid, knowing that even his initial presence had worked towards making things worse, and there was no easy way to make it better. _But I can't regret this, no matter what. If I do, it won't ever turn out all right, because I'll carry that burden with me, and my victory will always be a reminder of the cost._

He looked around. The house hadn't changed much in the last few months. Maybe gotten more decrepit, but, as awful as Roy felt to think it, he hadn't really expected that things would get better. Chris had offered to pay Mr. Hawkeye, but he'd taken only enough to cover the extra expenses of having Roy, citing something about equivalent exchange. Alchemist though Roy felt he was, in his opinion, some things just couldn't be governed by alchemic principles.

Riza descended the stairs quietly. "He said he was expecting you." She sounded perplexed, and Roy was a little unsettled, as well. He hadn't written beforehand to say that he was coming, though Chris had suggested that he do so.

Roy was suddenly reminded of the day he'd left. He'd cut his stay short by a week, and so Riza hadn't known up until the moment he started hauling his things downstairs.

* * *

_**Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-THWAK!**__ Roy dragged his trunk down the stairs, wincing with every loud bump and shake of the stairs. He should have made a ramp or something, but he hadn't thought that far ahead. The craziness of packing tended to do that to a person, especially when one was trying to hide it._

"_Roy, you don't leave for a week. Are you sending some things back early?" Riza asked as she looked up from her book._

"_I'm sending __**everything **__back early," Roy told her. He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded. "I'm sorry—plans changed. I'm leaving today. Right now."_

_Riza stood. "How long have you known about this?"_

_Roy winced. "A month."_

"_You should have told me!" scolded Riza. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish by keeping this a secret?"_

_**Good question.**__ "I…" Roy shrugged. He wouldn't lie and say he'd forgotten to mention it, but he had too much pride to actually tell her that it was out of what was probably a misplaced sense of honor. "You're right; I should have told you. I'm sorry."_

_Riza sighed. "At least you're not trying to offer excuses or tell me I shouldn't be angry with you."_

"_No," Roy agreed, "you have every right to be angry with me." __**Every right and then some… some you don't even know about yet.**_

"_Is there something else you're hiding?" Riza narrowed her eyes._

_Damn, she was good. "No—I've just been busy packing. Trying to remember if I left anything. I'd better go check." He hurried upstairs, made some noise tromping around the room, and came back down. "Nope—got everything."_

_Riza's mistrust was as plain as day; she was making very sure that Roy knew he had made a mistake. "Look, I'm __**sorry.**__ What more do you want me to say?"_

"_Perhaps why you knew you'd be leaving early and somehow came to the conclusion that I didn't need to know?" Her tone went from boiling hot to downright icy in that one sentence._

_Roy just stared back at her. Riza usually wasn't this bold when it came to anything concerning Roy, but he supposed he had made her rather angry, and she probably suspected what was most likely very close to his true motive, which would only further agitate her._

"_You realize that your silence is damning you to my conclusions," she prompted. "I've never been disposed to even think such unkind thoughts about you until about three minutes ago."_

_The first thing that came to his mind also came out of his mouth: "Then how about you tell me some of your secrets, Riza? I'm sure I'd love to know what else it is you think of me and your father and alchemy, and life in general while we're at it. You can't ask something of me for nothing in return."_

_He knew he'd stung her when she almost started back a step, but she quickly recovered and shot back fiercely, "Well, I'll leave you to your secrets—and your misery as well!" With a surprising amount of dignity, she waited until he was out the door before shutting it firmly, glaring at him all the while._

_Roy, too, kept turning back and sending ferocious looks until he couldn't see the house anymore. He couldn't say he hadn't deserved some level of grilling, but it was unfair that Riza often knew more than he did, and if she was going to be ungrateful, then so be it. He'd show her!_

* * *

_Later, they would write notes of apology to each other, and infrequent and unreliable (but far more amiable) written communication would ensue, but all that Roy had known at that point was that he had to leave before things truly broke beyond repair._

* * *

Roy blinked. Was he ready to do this? He had to be—there wasn't any other way.

Composing what he hoped was a determined expression, Roy ascended the stairs, unable to help the dark aura of foreboding that settled over him. This was it; the final test. After this, he would either leave with the knowledge he had come for, or he would leave as a failure.

No—the knowledge would be his, he was sure of it. The dark feeling, however, wouldn't go away, and Roy knew then that Flame Alchemy was going to come with a price tag far beyond his wildest expectations.

* * *

They stood on the platform of the train station six days later, each putting on a brave face for the other.

Roy knew Riza could take care of herself just fine, but that didn't stop him from worrying. He still cared about her, as he had all these past months, and as he knew he would continue to.

He hadn't meant to take her with him to the station, but she'd refused to be left behind. "I need to be sure I'm not making a mistake," she'd said. Roy could hardly have argued with that, but from their conversations, he also knew that she just needed someone to be with for as long as possible. She said she'd made arrangements; she was going to move in with a friend in a few weeks, and that was a good thing.

Their conversation at her father's grave—along with several subsequent exchanges—had also told Roy that Riza was worried about his safety. The military was a dangerous place even if you were at a desk all day, and Roy intended to be in the field. He promised he'd put down that he wanted her notified if anything should happen to him. He didn't know what good it would do, but the thought was strangely comforting all the same.

Now, the train was there, the incoming passengers finishing debarking noisily as the outbound travelers began to make their way onboard. Roy sighed. "You're _sure_ you're okay with me leaving? Be honest—I can stay if you need me to."

Riza looked up at him, refusing to fall for that particular trap. "Are you ready?"

"Ready or not…" Roy grabbed the handle of his trunk, hesitated, then set it down again. "I'm going to miss you, Riza," he admitted. "A lot."

"We can write," she said simply. "Even if it takes longer, we can write." She looked at the ground for a moment, then back to him. "Good luck," she almost whispered. "Safe journey." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and turned a little to kiss her fully on the mouth, holding her tightly for a moment, wanting to have a memory that both of them could rely on when all else failed.

He released her reluctantly as the conductor made the last boarding call. There weren't exactly tears in Riza's eyes, but they were very, very bright. She noticed the concern written all over his features. "I'll be _fine,_" she assured him, her voice not wavering one bit. Somehow knowing that he needed to hear it, squeezing his hand one last time, she added, _"You'll _be fine. Now _go._"

As Roy boarded the train, he cast one last glance backward, unable to help but consider that he might just be making a mistake. Was he leaving behind a future he would never again have a chance at, or would his future somehow defy all his expectations as only Riza could?


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

It hardly mattered anymore, Roy thought as he flipped through the old letters and notes from Chris.

He kept them with him, a reminder that there was something out there besides war and sickness and violence and hatred and death.

A few pages of glued-down or clipped-in papers later, he came to what he was looking for: advice.

_It's just puppy love. Enjoy it, but let it pass as it wants. –Meilin_

_Whatever it is, let it come as it will. You'll be better for the experience. –Li-Jun_

_**Don't do it!**__ You're there for your alchemy, not for girls! And getting in trouble… You're horrible! –Anna_

_Part of me says it's a bad idea, but part of me agrees with Li-Jun: you can't force anything, and I know you won't, but it never hurts to be reminded. –Sarah_

_You're going to leave, and it's going to hurt, but you can't just stop feeling. Just try to ignore it as best you can, and it will just ease away. –Emily_

_I don't know why it wouldn't work. You're both rather young, but just try to get along and see how things go. Good luck! –Margaret_

_I agree with Margaret. Give it a chance, or you'll regret it. –Alice_

It went on, the girls having written arguments with anecdotes and differing opinions, and it all amounted to different experiences. In the end, nothing had ever really come of anything. It had been a sort of unsure, quasi-romantic awkwardness compounded by Roy being Riza's father's student. Some had suspected and others had known, but many remained oblivious to it.

And Roy was left with a sting of regret. _I should have just tried._

But it wasn't that simple. It never was, and that was what most of the advice from the girls failed to take into account. Chris herself had never really expressed much beyond, "be careful and follow your gut", so he hadn't lost much there…

"Hey Roy!" Maes popped into the tent, pulled off his glasses, and began to polish them viciously. "You know, sand really scratches up glass. Is there anything you can do for that? You know, draw a circle, scribble some stuff in it, turn my lenses into diamonds, maybe?"

"It doesn't quite work that way," Roy started, knowing full-well that Maes knew the whole speech by now.

True to character, Maes flapped a hand, "Yeah, yeah, equivalent exchange, wrong elements, diamonds are made of carbon and glass is made out of silicon—go read a first-grade science book, you idiot! Anyway, how's your ghost of Solstice past doing? You know, the pretty, blond cadet with the amazing aim?"

Roy hadn't said much, but Maes was rather observant despite his perpetually scratched-up glasses. Persistent, too—he wouldn't let it go until Roy either spilled or chewed his head clean off, and even then, the latter wasn't always a safe bet. But sometimes a rough retort would at least delay talking about it. "Excellent, Hughes. Just peachy. 'Cause war's all rainbows and sunshine."

"I get it, Roy, you don't want to talk about it. But you should at least know she's not alone. She's got a couple friends—a girl her age or a little older; long black, wavy hair. And there's that really amiable guy—the chain-smoker… what's his name? Panic? Chaos? Disorder…"

"Havoc," supplied Roy, knowing that Maes was once again trying to lighten the mood. He really did appreciate it; even if it was sometimes a little lame, that people could still find that simple happiness was enough to lift Roy's spirits. But Havoc's inclusion in Riza's circle sparked an old ember of jealousy. Should he care? No—Riza was free to do as she wished, and with the horrible way she'd changed from young woman to soldier, Roy doubted she was getting any more action than he was, which was to say, very little.

Oh well. Maes was right—Havoc was a decent sort, not likely to get into trouble or to cause pain for others (if you didn't count that the man smoked like a freaking _chimney_), not like a lot of the other men, even—no, _especially_—those who had wives at home. And not off his rocker, like Roy was starting to feel, or Crimson… Roy shuddered.

"Well, how's your fiancée?" Roy asked, trying to take his mind off things. "I'm sure you're just dying to tell me another story, huh?"

Maes was practically bursting with joy at Roy's actually asking after the young woman in Central. "Perfect, wonderful, excellent, as usual. She sent me a picture—look! She got a haircut! Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Ravishing," Roy agreed flatly. Gracia was indeed _very_ pretty, he thought, but she was Maes's type, and the difference between Maes's and Roy's respective types was like night and day.

Cuffing Roy upside the head playfully, Maes chastised, "Don't talk so lustfully about another man's girlfriend, Roy! Go find yourself some other girl! They fall all over you! Anyway…" he jabbered on, Roy catching snatches here and there, nodding and smiling when he was supposed to.

"And listen to this! Gracia says the news from Central is that Bradley's coming out here! I think things are coming to an end, Roy!"

"Yeah," Roy murmured, "Only 'cause there's nobody left to fight."

More seriously, Maes replied, "Well, the sooner this is over, the sooner the cleanup can begin. The sooner you can try to make things right. I'd rather that Bradley not wait until it's too late for that, myself."

"True." Roy sighed and stood, more sand sloughing off his uniform. First rain, then dry cold with clumps of snowy days here and there, then more rain, then wet heat, then dry heat, then wet heat again… like that until the end of his apprenticeship, and now desert, where it was just dry heat or dry cold, depending on the time of day, and sand in places you didn't know sand could get to. Roy would be glad when he was back in the city proper.

Maes shook his head. "I swear, Roy, you should research some sort of alchemy to get sand out of things. They could call you the Sandpaper Alchemist..."

* * *

This wasn't how he'd pictured it at all. The end of the war was supposed to bring cleanup, as Maes had said, but there was still pain and suffering everywhere Roy looked.

It didn't help that he was in the military hospital, sitting by Riza's bed, holding her hand as she slept.

_I should never have agreed to this. I should have found some other way. I was stupid to even think for a moment that I could withstand this. Every day I come closer to breaking, and more and more people get hurt, and everything's going nowhere fast._

"Hey. How is she?" Havoc poked his head in. "Still sleeping? Shame…" He pulled out a cigarette, then seemed to think the better of it and slid it back into the packet, though Roy could see his hands shake with the effort. "Must've been one hell of a piece of shrapnel. How did it even happen, again?"

"I don't really remember. It's all a blur." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie.

Havoc looked at him sideways. "How did you get so damn lucky, Mustang, to come out of that without a scratch? Don't get me wrong—I'm glad you did, or you might both be dead, and that'd be no good. The country needs more decent leaders like you, and people who can work hard, like Riza." He grinned ruefully. "I'm just a grunt. I'm limited in how far I can go, but I'll do my part, no questions asked. More complaints than questions, actually. They almost tossed me out of the academy." He chuckled at the memory. "It was Riza who pushed me back on the right track, you know? She's good at that sort of thing. In a lot of ways, she's the little sister I never had." He paused for a moment. "She never would say what happened between you guys, and I know I shouldn't pry, but…"

"Nothing happened," Roy told him, another half-truth slipping out. Then again, Havoc was pretty trustworthy. "Nothing significant, anyway. We were just kids. It's done now."

"Uh_-huh_. I'll take your word on that." Clearly, Havoc didn't believe Roy on that last point. Was he really that unconvincing? Roy hoped it was just Havoc believing what he wanted to—it was easier to convince people of something else when it was just what they thought was true than when they actually had proof.

"Well," Havoc began again after three minutes of silence, "when she wakes up, tell her I stopped by?" He waited for Roy's nod. "Thanks." He started out of the room, then poked his head back in. "You can't beat yourself up over this, Mustang. There's no way you could've stopped this. And you saved her. You did what you could, and I know she'll be grateful for that when she wakes up." With that and a small smile, Havoc disappeared.

No sooner did the footfalls fade down the hall, then Riza's eyelids fluttered. Her forehead creased, and she made a small noise like a whimper of pain.

"Riza?" Roy whispered. Noticing that she seemed to relax at the sound of his voice, he continued, "Um, Havoc says hello—he just stopped in. I didn't know you basically kicked his ass through the academy, but you would, wouldn't you? And now you're here because I was stupid enough to think that I could change things—"

Riza silenced him by squeezing his hand "You can," she breathed, "still change things… And you're going to." She sighed and, with great effort, cracked her eyes open just far enough that she could make eye contact with him. "Thank you." Closing her eyes, she seemed to fall back asleep.

_Thank you._

Roy hadn't cried, not really, since the day of his parents' funeral. But now, when he had been given hope by not one, but two people in as many minutes, it was almost more than he could take. He made a compromise, letting one salty tear slip out, but swiping it away before letting his expression rearrange itself into the most effortless smile he'd made in years.

If they believed, even if they didn't exactly know what it was that they were signing up to believe in, Roy had no intention of letting them down.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Roy was stunned.

For once, Maes wasn't gushing about Elysia. In fact, he wasn't gushing about either of his "lovely ladies"; he'd slid quietly into the office, waited at the door for three minutes, then cleared his throat.

"Oh! Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, I'm sorry." Riza scrawled the classic illegible signature across a report she'd been reading, then stood. "Master Sergeant Fuery, if you'd take this?"

As Fuery nodded and grabbed the small stack, Roy's jaw dropped; _Riza was leaving with Maes!_

"Hold on just a moment." At least Hawkeye and Hughes did as they were bid. Roy surveyed the room suspiciously. "What's going on that you need Lieutenant Hawkeye for, Hughes?"

"A meeting," Maes answered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Oh no… He wasn't going to tell her what Roy had apparently—he was ashamed to admit just how hazy and/or nonexistent the details were in his memory—said last week at the bar, was he? No; Hughes wouldn't do that! Would he drag Riza off to harass her in private about marrying Roy? He'd done it before, if only once (and several years ago, at that), and for a moment, Roy was sidetracked by wondering just how it was that his subordinate garnered more respect than he did…

"No," Roy finally decided aloud. "You can't. Not without my permission. Neither of you outrank me."

"Well, Hawkeye should, and that's got to count for _something,_" countered Maes, whose grin was monstrously wolfish by now. "Besides, you new Eastern soldiers don't really hold much ground with us Central folk here—you should know that by now, Roy."

Roy turned desperately to Riza. "Lieutenant…" he all but pleaded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Havoc and Breda doing their best not to snigger.

"Sorry, Sir, but I arranged this meeting with the Lieutenant Colonel, left the necessary paperwork on your desk, and watched you sign off on it," Riza reminded him, completely straight-faced.

That did it; Havoc and Breda burst out laughing, Fuery ducked to hide his own laughing fit, and even Falman was smiling.

Hayate trotted up to Roy and whined, nudging Roy's hand with his nose. Roy scratched the pup behind the ears and muttered, "At least _someone_ still respects me in this office." He sighed heavily. "All right, go. Just how long is this going to take, anyway?"

A grin of her own beginning to form, Riza stopped and turned in the doorway. "As long as it takes, Sir." With that, she left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Roy slipped on a spark glove, looking as annoyed as he felt. "Spill," he told the rest of his subordinates. "What do you know?"

"Nothing!" Fuery answered, his face the very depiction of honesty.

"Yeah—it was just funny to watch you… Never mind." Havoc quickly sobered up and went back to work.

Roy glared at Falman and Breda, but both shook their heads. With another heaving sigh, Roy removed the spark glove and rubbed his face, scrunching his eyes shut. He was already turning twenty-eight today—how could it get any worse?

* * *

It was noon and Riza still wasn't back. Granted, she'd been gone only an hour, but Roy had no idea what she and Hughes could be meeting about!

"Hey Chief, why don't you come to lunch with us?" Havoc asked. "Take your mind off things for a bit. We're gonna go outside and eat—it's a nice day, after all."

Trying to hide just how morose he was, Roy stood and followed his chattering subordinates out the door, down the hall and a few flights of stairs, and out into the grove of trees at the center of the courtyard.

"Well-done," said Riza's voice, and Roy did a double-take. A simple lunch was laid out, and Roy could pick out dishes that he had enjoyed as a child, ones he had made when he'd been at the Hawkeyes' or had company.

"Wha… How… Umm…" It wasn't often that he was this speechless.

"Happy birthday, Roy!" Maes slung an arm around his shoulders. "You have some supremely gifted actors among you—you know that?"

Roy looked around. Riza, Havoc, Breda, Falman, Fuery, and even Hayate were all beaming at him. Riza stepped forward and handed him a card. "Happy birthday, Sir."

"Thanks," he managed to choke out, feeling on the edge of tears, fainting, or pulling out his spark gloves and blowing it all to hell. Finding no good option among those three, he shook his head. "I… Thank you."

"You've been working too hard, Sir," Fuery told him. "Just relax, enjoy, and take the rest of the afternoon off." He handed Roy a slip of paper, initialed by Führer Bradley, himself, allowing Roy and his subordinates a vacation for the rest of the afternoon.

"Well, come on, Sir," Falman coaxed with a smile.

Breda finished the thought with, "You get to pick first—it's your birthday."

Finally, Roy's lips relaxed into their own grin, and he picked up a plate. "Noodles, anyone?"

* * *

Seven blue jackets lay piled up on the table. Havoc was sprawled on the grass, smoking a cigarette, Fuery was playing a game of fetch with Hayate, and Maes, Breda, and Falman were enjoying a discussion on chess, though Breda kept a wary eye on Hayate.

Riza sat with her back against a tree, enjoying the sunlight that filtered through the budding spring leaves. Roy sat next to her in much the same manner, but with one knee pulled up to his chest while the other lay flat. "So, whose idea was this?"

"Fuery's, actually. He met up with me in the park a few weeks ago while I was walking Hayate, and then we ran into Maes, and at that point, there was no going back. Not that I wanted to," she added quickly.

Roy smiled. "Thank you." He paused for a moment, then asked, "This wasn't… too much trouble, was it? All this food…"

Riza shook her head. "We all pitched in." She frowned slightly. "It was strange… the Lieutenant Colonel and I were setting up, and the Führer walked up to us and asked whose party it was. When we told him, he smiled and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and, well, you can guess the rest."

Roy's expression became thoughtful and a little worried. "I hope he's not in the office, digging through all those papers… not that he'd find anything except unfinished work," he hastened to assure not just Riza, but himself.

They were quiet for a moment, then Riza asked, half-teasing, "So… twenty-eight. How does it feel?"

Roy smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well, Ms. I'm-still-twenty-five-for-four-more-months, you'll find that your eyesight starts going from reading so many damn reports, your bones creak a little more in the morning from all those stairs you have to climb, and nobody—not even your subordinates or your closest friends—respects you anymore."

Riza grinned and laughed a little quietly. "We give you so much grief only because we like you, Sir. Isn't that always how it goes?"

"Yeah, if you're a kid," Roy remarked.

"I'd like to think we're all still children at heart," Riza told him.

More contemplatively, Roy murmured, "I would, too."

"Don't start that." Riza laid a hand on his arm, drawing his gaze to meet hers. "Not today, of all days, when you should just be happy that you're alive and that you can still follow those dreams you have. That's all I meant." She looked around. "You were born in the spring, when everything's coming to life again. If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "I never pegged you as superstitious."

"I'm not," explained Riza, "I just want to believe—I have to believe. I _do_ believe. If I don't, then I can't help you. And I want to help you."

"And I need your help." Roy told her honestly. "It's never that I don't appreciate what or how much you do. It's how far I have yet to go. But then I remember that I have you, and then I know that I can make it."

"Thank you, Sir," Riza nearly whispered.

"Hey—catch!" Havoc tossed two canteens their way.

As they caught them, Roy and Riza could hear the fizz inside the containers. "Havoc, this isn't champagne, is it?" Roy asked suspiciously.

"Pfff…" Havoc shook his head. "I'd get caught and you know it. Sparkling apple cider—next best thing." He raised his canteen. "To Roy Mustang. As long as we have each other, we'll never run out of problems."

Roy cracked a smile and drank from the canteen. "And just whose fault is that, I wonder?"

Havoc made another dismissive sound and turned back to talk to the other men.

Roy shifted, and something poked him in the side—he'd put the card Riza had handed him in his pocket. He carefully slit it open with a finger. Inside was only Riza's neat handwriting, the words even and proper, but no less heartfelt than her earlier words to him:

_Roy—_

_I know you'll consider today as both a day of achievements and failures, and you're entitled to do as you wish, but I hope that you'll realize that, no matter what, we're all here for you. We always have been, and we always will be. You won't give up—I know that, but please, for once (and only once, mind you), let me tell you to step back and take a break. I wish I could do more, but you'd never forgive yourself if you weren't the one to make things happen. The future is yours, but so is today; make the most of both._

He was losing count of just how many times he'd found himself unable to come up with something to say. Roy gazed between the card and Riza, who was looking slightly worried. "Sir…?"

"I don't deserve you," he said quietly.

Quickly, Riza forced a smile. "Maybe not yet, Sir, but I'd like to think that it'll come with time. When you finally reach your goal…" she abandoned the effort and the smile, and told him quietly but matter-of-factly, "Like I said, I believe in you. I believe in your dream. As much as it's your birthday, it's not all about you, Sir, and what little is about you doesn't depend so much on what you've accomplished as what you've yet to do. If I were to give up on you, I wouldn't be betraying just you; I'd be betraying myself, too, and I refuse to do that. I'm staying by your side, come Hell or high water, for better or for worse, and don't you _dare_ try to persuade me otherwise." Her teeth were clenched by the end, and Roy noticed her eyes shining with moisture of tears she'd never let fall. "It's insulting, Sir, and birthday or no, you have no right to say such things."

"I…" What was he supposed to say? "I'm sorry" would hardly be a lie, but it would also hardly be enough. "I didn't mean it" _would_ be a lie, and he'd be damned if he was going to knowingly worsen the problem. He supposed the truth would have to do. "I don't know what to say to make it better, but I wish I did. I wish I could. So I'll promise you what I already have: that I'll do what it takes to get to the top. I'll make it worth it for you, if for no one else."

"Hey!" Maes called. "Why are you being so quiet? Why are you looking so serious? Roy, did you just propose?" Though he played it light-hearted, there was an unmistakable concern in his eyes.

Roy stood up and dusted himself up. Perhaps banter would do the trick. "Yes, in fact, I did, Maes," he retorted, straight-faced. He put a hand out to help Riza to her feet. "The wedding's this evening at the courthouse. Bring champagne—you're the only one who can afford the good stuff."

"You outrank the Lieutenant Colonel, Sir," Riza pointed out as seriously as possible. "And do you really want him to get you drunk? Need I remind you that he carries around a camera?"

"She's got you there, Chief," Havoc chimed in.

"When doesn't she?" Breda stage-whispered, as aware as everyone else of the former tension; they'd all seen the Colonel and the Lieutenant's expressions, but what could be done for it, except to let things run their course? Lieutenant Hawkeye was possibly the only person who could consistently snap Colonel Mustang out of a funk. Thankfully, it seemed to be working.

The jokes quickly degenerated into orders to clean up and suggestions of heading out for drinks. Maes was the only one to decline, as he couldn't "deprive myself of the company of my amazing wife and darling daughter one minute longer!" (With the temporary Central-Eastern merge, Maes's telephone calls home were starting to become even more important than they had been before, if that was even possible.)

As they headed out, none of them could quite shake the heaviness that had settled upon them, but they'd never let the darkness get the best of them before, and they intended to keep it that way.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

"A request for more leave than you're being given? How much do you have to pack?" Roy tried to joke.

Riza's reply, however, was completely serious: "An apartment and my father's house."

Roy blinked. "You didn't settle the estate before you left?"

"I was only seventeen, Sir," Riza reminded him. "Seventeen, estranged from the rest of my family, and planning to go into the military, myself."

"I get it, I get it." Roy tried his best not to sound too annoyed. Then, he remembered something. "Do you need any help, or would you like some help in any case? If you haven't been back there in years, it's going to be no small task. Not that I think you're incapable or anything, but I'm sure I probably left a few small things behind, and even if they don't mean anything to me now, you shouldn't have to clean up after me." He was well-aware of the irony of that statement, and he was sure Riza was, as well, but he felt the genuine need to be there for her if and when he could be.

Shrugging, Riza replied, "If you feel the need to help, I won't try to persuade you otherwise."

Roy was starting to get the feeling that his support was going to be as emotional as it was physical, but why shouldn't it be? Why should Riza have to give selflessly time after time, with hardly so much as an occasional "thank you"? Yes, she could take care of herself, thanks very much, but Roy had had a hand in turning both their lives upside-down, and as such, he would do everything in his power to make things right again.

"All right, then—it's settled. Let me know where I need to be and when, and I'll be there," he promised.

For a brief moment, Roy could swear that Riza smiled.

* * *

Riza sighed. She'd always known she was going to have to face these particular ghosts of her past, or rather, the (occasionally literal, in the case of a few spiders) skeletons in her closet.

"Whoa…" Roy breathed, a little in awe, before sneezing violently, causing Riza to jump. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

"I'd better get started," she murmured, grabbing a book from the end table. A scrap fluttered to the floor. Bending to pick it up, she realized it was a photograph. It was one Chris must have taken while on a rare visit: the angle from was off to the side and slightly in front of the porch swing. Riza was half-curled up next to Roy, who had an arm around her somewhat protectively. She looked a little apprehensive, but the both of them were smiling, it was obvious that each one was the other one's reason for doing so.

"Sometimes I wonder: could we have been happy if things had stayed just like that?" Roy mused quietly at Riza's shoulder, making her jump yet again.

Regaining her composure, Riza turned to look at Roy and shrugged. "I don't think we'll ever know the answer to that, Sir. I just know that, even with all we've been through, I'm happy with things as they are, and that's good enough."

"That makes two of us on some days, one of us on others, and, if I might hazard a guess, neither of us on occasion," Roy mumbled.

"But we're still going to do this," Riza clarified. "All of this. We'll make it to the top, set everything straight, and maybe then things will be all right."

" 'Maybe'?" Roy queried.

Riza hated having to lecture as though Roy was a child, but there was no other way to explain. "No two people see things exactly the same, right?" She waited a second for Roy's nod. "Well, perhaps your definition of making things better is someone else's definition of making things worse. I'm not trying to tell you to stop—I truly believe what you're doing is right. But there will be dissenters even when you make it to the top."

Roy heaved a sigh. "I know. And I know that you meant only to explain. There's really no good way to say a lot of that. But part of me still hopes that somehow, things will be different when I make it to the top."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Riza assured him. "It keeps you going; who am I to tell you that you should stop thinking of something if it keeps your dream alive?"

With a ghost of a sad smile, Roy replied, "If I start having unrealistic expectations."

Riza very nearly snorted. "Sir, if there's anything certain about expectations, it's that most of them are unrealistic. That's why we're so often disappointed. You should be proud if you can accomplish any of what you say, which you will," she added quickly. "But, as you well know, it's going to take time and effort."

"Just like packing up the house," Roy reasoned, effectively changing the subject. "So, how are we doing this? Take the lead, Lieutenant."

* * *

Riza had kept more than Roy had thought she would. Most of it was useful or of sentimental value, but she had also kept almost all of the books and notes from her father's study, which they were currently hauling outside.

"I probably should have asked you before we went to the trouble of packing the study up, but I just assumed more of my father's research might be useful to you." Riza set a box down on the porch. "So much for planning ahead."

Roy shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll go through it and keep what I feel is necessary, but what should I do with what I don't keep?"

Riza had to think on this for a moment, and Roy did, too. He knew that donating it to the Central library—or any library, for that matter—probably would not be the option Riza chose. Mr. Hawkeye had tattooed his most important research on Riza's back, for goodness's sake! If that didn't give away Mr. Hawkeye's opinions on keeping secrets, nothing did.

Having been deep in thought, Roy missed Riza's reply the first time. "I'm sorry—could you please say that again?"

"I'll look through what you don't keep, and we'll figure it out from there," repeated Riza.

"_We_?" Roy was more than a little surprised.

Riza nodded. "You know more than I do about cracking alchemic code—you can tell me what an alchemist would glean from any given material, and if I deem it safe to donate, I see no reason why it shouldn't be donated to the library or something." She glanced up at Roy. "Is that all right?"

Roy nodded quickly. "Yes. Of course! I just… I mean, it's your father's things, so I didn't think…" he trailed off, shrugging.

"He trusted you, Roy. He really did. And I trust you, too. I trusted you back then. Why else would I have given you the secret of Flame Alchemy?" She smiled softly. "There is only so much any one of us can do. We just have to do what we feel is right, and hope that others see it the same way." A little more quietly, she added, "And for what it's worth, you've done right by me."

In a move that surprised both Riza and himself, Roy took a step forward and pulled Riza into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered.

If it was any other time or place, Roy would put money on Riza scolding him, but as it was then and there, she returned the embrace a little awkwardly, but in a way that unmistakably expressed the support she offered him. He hoped that she knew how much it comforted him, and that she was comforted in turn.

They stayed as they were for a while before settling gingerly onto the porch swing. It was amazing that it held their weight, let alone its own weight after all these years, Roy thought as they slowly rocked back and forth. His right arm lay protectively across Riza's shoulders, and her head rested on his shoulder as she reached up with her left hand to hold his right one. It had been far too long since they had experienced anything this peaceful together, and though anyone who might see them would think the moment completely romantic, that was just about the last thing on their minds. It didn't need to be romantic.

For a moment, though, Roy caught himself wishing that it was, remembering the picture from earlier.

He knew that they could never go back to that time, and he was surprised to find that, but for that sudden pang, he didn't really want to. As simple as life had been, Roy had made the choice to embark on this journey. Riza had been right—they shouldn't be wishing to relive the past, but rather they should aim for a society where everyone could experience that sort of peace without worrying for their safety or the safety of those they cared about.

Roy was fully aware that there would still be struggles and unhappiness, even between himself and Riza, after all was said and done. Still, he thought, every once and a while, it really was nice to be reminded that such pure and simple moments could exist even now.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

Roy sighed. Had he really expected that paperwork would change after all was said and done?

Well, if he was going to be totally honest… maybe… a little… _Yes._

Truth be told, he sometimes wondered (in a completely hypothetical and sardonic manner, of course) if he hadn't made a mistake in restoring his vision. Eyesight really made everything so much easier, though, he'd remind himself, and there was so much work to do.

Even now, two years later, there were still the occasional incidents. While most didn't seem to mind mixing with Ishvalans or giving them their own land back (some seemed gladder of the latter than the former), there was the vocal minority that wasn't content either way; they wanted the Ishvalans gone for good. It had been a long campaign to attempt to reverse the prejudice, and Roy knew that the battle was still far from over, but there were moments, whole days, even, where he allowed himself to sit back and just feel proud about what he'd done.

That wasn't to say that he'd done it all by himself, and he knew it. Riza was still there, and Scar, too, was a constant reminder. Even Ed (who _still_ owed him money, as he'd promised) and Al popped in occasionally, reminding him of all they'd done. Ling sent a missive every now and then under the pretext of keeping up international relations, and Major General Armstrong never failed to berate him for some small foible every time she was in the area on business. Roy's former subordinates also kept in contact, and the joint efforts of Rebecca and Chris to re-open the bar (with Roy's promised funding) meant that Roy was welcome when he was around.

Roy even heard from Führer Grumman every now and then—mostly reports on Selim and affairs of the state, but also the occasional prod about his granddaughter—and made sure that even without Grumman's letters, he was well-informed on both local and national matters.

"You do so much, Sir, but there's only so much you can do."

Roy looked up. Riza had entered the room with two cups of tea and a bag from the small deli down the street. "You haven't eaten anything since you got here this morning," she observed. In a lighter tone, she half-joked, "You're never going to make it to the top if you starve to death."

Accepting a cup of tea and the deli food, Roy smiled. "And to think we used to get after you for working too much."

Getting to the heart of the matter, as always, Riza replied without missing a beat, "And to think I used to get after _you_ for slacking off."

Both of them chuckled. Roy pulled a sandwich from the bag, examining the other contents. Just barely managing to suppress an uncharacteristic squeal of delight, Roy noted, "You bought cookies!"

Hayate perked up at Roy's naming of the treat. He trotted over and sat at Roy's side. Roy turned and shook his head. "Not for you, Hayate. For me."

Riza slid a dog treat from her pocket and laid it on the floor, scratching the dog's ears as he crunched on the biscuit. "Sir, if you continue to tease Hayate like that, he won't trust you."

Roy expression sobered a little. "Sorry." He nudged the cookies towards her. "Gingersnap? I know they're your favorite," he coaxed.

"Yes, they are, Sir, which is why I purchased them." Riza pulled the bag over and retrieved something from the very bottom. _"These_ are for you."

"Ooohhh, you're _good._" Roy took the small package in his palm. "Dark chocolates." He untied the ribbon and pulled a piece out. "Would you like the first one? You did buy them, after all."

Riza held out her hand. "It doesn't hurt that I like chocolate," she reasoned, "although I did mean for them to be an early birthday present."

Roy's smile took on a slight lady-killer aspect, knowing that it wouldn't help his case much. "But what's a gift if you don't make use of it?"

Reaching across the desk to reclaim the small bag, Riza quipped playfully, "So you won't 'make use' of them by yourself?"

"Hey!" Roy attempted to reclaim the chocolates, but Riza twitched them just out of his reach. "I never said that! I was offering to share! Whatever happened to the demure young lady whose father I studied alchemy under?"

As usual, without missing a beat, Riza replied, "She was corrupted by her commanding officer and his lackeys."

There was only one thing left to try: Roy put on his most pathetic face and, in as pleading a voice as he could muster, he begged, "Please, would you give them back?"

"Puppy faces don't work on me, Sir—you should know that." Riza sighed dramatically. "But, since you said, 'please', I _suppose_ I'll give them back." She placed them in Roy's still-outstretched hand.

"Thank you," Roy said a bit tartly, sliding the sweets into his desk drawer, extracting only one. He popped it in his mouth, then, in a flash, stole one of the gingersnaps.

"Hey!" Riza protested as Roy took a bite out of the stolen treasure. "I gave your chocolates back!"

"Ah, but I gave you a chocolate before that, and I never said that there were no strings attached." Roy offered the uneaten half, but Riza rolled her eyes and pushed his hand back.

"So," she questioned, ignoring Roy as he took a deliberately dainty bite out of the remaining half-gingersnap, "what's the news from Central?"

"Mostly good. The peace treaties are holding with Creta and Aruego, and Drachma's still reeling from Major General Armstrong's displays of power. It doesn't look like we'll be seeing any external trouble for a while. However," he continued a bit more darkly, "there's still some opposition to the creation of even a semi-autonomous Ishvalan state, though there's been little unrest, and most of it has been Amestrians antagonizing the Ishvalans."

Riza shook her head. "Some things really never change," she murmured.

"But I'm glad of that," Roy admitted, surprising Riza. "I'm glad I still have you," he clarified. "I never would have made it this far without your help, and the help of everyone else. One man can be a king, but Ling was right when he said that a king can't exist without his people. I might not be king, but the same thing applies to anyone who takes on a task that involves more than one person."

"I wouldn't have stood by you if I didn't believe in you and what you're doing, Sir—you know that," Riza told him. "You really are a wonderful, kind, loyal, caring person, and I think you lose sight of that sometimes. As your aide, it's my duty to put you in your place, not just to remind you that you aren't all-powerful, but also that you aren't worthless scum."

Roy winced. "Don't hold back, there," he muttered. When Riza shrank back just barely noticeably, he assured her, "I appreciate your honesty, Hawkeye, I really do. Not many in your position would have the courage to be so open with their superior officer, although I suppose it helps that I was your friend first."

"No," disagreed Riza, "first you were just the foster son of an acquaintance of my father's, then you were an enviable nuisance, _then_ you were my friend, although I suppose that's all that really matters now." She paused for a moment, then went on: "But now, even that's not enough. You're the man I chose to protect with a dream I chose to protect, and there are moments where I've regretted that because of what it led me to do.

"But part of that dream was to be able to make reparations that, even if only partially, will justify your previous actions, and I believe that I will be able to justify mine, too." She sighed. "It's been a tough road to travel at times, and I've had to watch and wait helplessly as I witnessed things that have broken my heart, but I've also seen and done so much that's given me hope and happiness enough to mend it, and I never would have been able to do that if I hadn't met you. So, I guess what I want to say is thank you, Sir, for allowing me to be a part of your incredible and impossible, yet somehow miraculously achieved plan to change Amestris and its people for the better."

Roy was stunned, and, even after going through every possible response in his head, could find no way to verbally acknowledge such praise, so instead he nodded and took Riza's hands in his, squeezing them gently. Finally, he managed to whisper, "Thank _you,_ for standing by me, even when all seemed lost. Thank you for refusing to let the darkness take hold, and thank you for just being there, for being a reminder of why I attempted something most people considered insane. Without you, _you personally,_ and no one else, I really don't know that I could have accomplished all of this."

Normally, Riza would have passed this off as flattery, but when she had been so honest just before, it wasn't possible that Roy would disrespect her by blowing her role out of proportion. "I…" No. Here and now still wasn't the time or the place to get into this. She gently extracted her hands from Roy's. "I'll clean up," she breathed. "There's still more work to do, Sir."

Roy bit his lip and chewed on it unhappily. There was always more work to do, and there always would be—he understood that. But so much had changed over the last sixteen years, especially their relationship (as Riza had so carefully noted), so why couldn't it change just a little more?

It was going to have to change again, he decided. The question was, how to go about it? How to make his intentions clear without seeming like he was forcing her, or breaking things beyond all repair? It always seemed that taking the final step was the most frightening stage of any process, because once a thing was finished, you couldn't go back.

Well, they'd made things work so far, Roy realized, his determination returning. They'd find a way, together, as they always had. _That_ was the one thing that really would never change.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Roy cleared his throat nervously and swallowed before he began to speak. "I was once told—by a child, no less—that a king cannot exist without his people. Even before I heard those words, they were the essence of the changes I hoped to bring to Amestris as its leader. Today, I stand before you to share this promise with you: I will do everything in my power to keep Amestris at peace, to foster understanding among ourselves and our neighbors, and to protect all, even those who would be considered the least among us, from being subjected to illegal, unsafe, and immoral situations." He paused.

"I'm young, it's true, but I'm not inexperienced. I've seen the best and the worst of humanity. I know how much destruction can be accomplished by what seems to be the most insignificant word, but I also know the wondrous hope that can be nurtured with just a single smile, even from a stranger. I have surrounded myself with those who can remind me of my duties to all of you, those who understand what I don't. I won't pretend that I'm all-knowing, but with the help of those who stand by me, I will… I will…" Roy let out a groan and flopped onto the couch. _"Augh…"_

"Lost your place, Sir?" Riza appeared in the doorway of the office, entering when Roy waved her in impatiently.

Roy nodded, scrunching his eyes shut for a moment and rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead. "Sometimes, I forget that writing in shorthand isn't the best idea for important documents, even if I'm the only one who's going to read them." With a rueful grin, he corrected himself: _"Especially_ if I'm the only one who's going to read them." He looked up. "How are you holding out?"

Riza shrugged. "Well enough. Learning that he was my grandfather just before he died…" She sighed heavily. "He always watched over me, and he knew the whole time! I understand why he didn't say anything, but a part of me wishes he had." She shot a semi-accusatory look at Roy. "Or that _someone else_ had." She sat down on the couch next to Roy, who put his arm across her shoulders.

"But would you really have believed me?" he wanted to know.

After thinking for a moment, Riza shook her head. "Probably not," she admitted. "And since he probably wouldn't have backed you up…"

"I'm sorry," Roy murmured, not disagreeing with Riza's assumption about Grumman. The man always had been a sly old fox. "I know that we all thought that the worst of it was over." Ignoring Riza's interjection of "But it is!", he continued, "You've been through more than anyone should have to withstand. You've gone through more than I have, and I'll be the first to admit that. But that's part of what makes you, well, you. That's part of why you're so invaluable to me." Now that he had Riza's full attention, he stopped and stood, taking Riza's hands and pulling her up with him.

"For the past nineteen years, you've done nothing but support me, no matter the circumstances. You've put up with my whining, you've coaxed and talked and threatened me out of my bad moods, and you've made an effort to keep me in good spirits even when you weren't feeling well, yourself. I really can't put into words just how much you mean to me, Riza." He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. "Please, let me finish.

"Do you remember that day three years ago in the office at Eastern? There was still so much left to go, and you realized that, even when you wanted to speak up, and I don't know if this is what you were going to say, but know that I speak from my heart when I tell you that I don't ever want you to leave my side again. I know you wouldn't, anyway, but I want you to stand beside me as more than my closest aide, more than my friend, and more than the girl I kissed at the train station the day I left your house for good." Now, he stopped.

Riza was clearly flustered; pink had risen in her cheeks, and her eyes shone brighter than they did most of the time. Her expression was a chaotic blend of confusion and shock and worry and—most importantly—a hint of joy. "I-I…" she stammered. She stopped, licked her lips, and tried again. "I…" But before she could put the words together, Roy was speaking again.

"We really probably shouldn't decide anything before I make this speech. If you say yes, I'll be too ecstatic to concentrate, and if you say no…" He stopped short, feeling the pit of his stomach sink at the thought, even though it was hardly possible that "no" would be her response.

His dread only multiplied when Riza clenched her hands into fists inside his grasp and fixed her gaze on the floor for a moment before raising her eyes to his. With a terrifying glare, she started in a low, trembling voice, "How _dare_ you… You really think that—that after all this… after all that we've been through… I said I'd follow you into Hell if I had to, and I did, and still you'd doubt that, even though the future is as uncertain as ever, I'd deny you—that I'd deny _myself_ what I've been wanting _for nineteen years? _What is the _matter_ with you? _Are you, in fact, a complete idiot?" _she finished almost at top volume, her breathing a little heavy.

Very slowly, Roy broke into what could only be (appropriately) described as an idiotic smile. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I really am. A complete and total idiot."

Riza relaxed and let out a shaky half-sob-half-laugh. "You are _such_ an idiot. You need me. And, even if this is the only time I'll ever admit it, I need you."

Roy reached out a hand to simultaneously brush Riza's bangs from her forehead and catch the two tears of frustration that had managed to leak out, just as Riza lifted her hand to cup his cheek. They smiled at each other for a moment, then Riza slid her hand around to the back of Roy's head and pulled him down just until their lips met.

It didn't matter that Roy was due to address Amestris in four minutes and thirty-two seconds, or that both he and Riza were standing in the Führer's—well, almost officially now Roy's—office _in full dress uniform;_ what had just transpired (and was still transpiring) rendered everything else completely, absolutely, and by any and all means unimportant as Roy wrapped his free arm around Riza's waist and Riza brought her free hand up to clasp the other one. She rose up just barely on tiptoe (They had always been fairly close in height, but thank God for heels!) and tilted her head just a little, deepening the kiss just slightly and nearly sending Roy staggering backwards.

However, after what seemed like both a fraction of a second and a lifetime, but before they could get to the point where the need for air overcame them, Riza broke the kiss reluctantly, pulling back just enough to glance at the clock. "You need to be out there in three minutes," she breathed, taking another small step back. "And no matter what I just agreed to—especially _because_ of what I just agreed to—I will _not_ let you be late."

"I'm not going out there without you," Roy informed her somewhat stubbornly. "I won't."

"Don't worry—I plan on being at your side," Riza told him, putting her arm through his. "Now come on."

As they headed out to greet the future, neither could help the beatific smiles that graced their faces. After all, a king could exist without his people—every man is king of himself. But there is no way a king could exist without his queen.

**~THE END~**


End file.
